Distance
by dashinginconverse
Summary: She always keeps everyone at an arm's length; Roman is determined to change that. ReignsPaige, oneshot


_**Disclaimer:**_ _I don't own anything._

 _ **Summary: She always keeps everyone at an arm's length; Roman is determined to change that. ReignsPaige, oneshot**_

 _Wow, it certainly has been a while! Trying to start out the year with writing something, and a new pairing at that. Ever since the Roman/Paige pairing kind of exploded on the fanfic scene, I've been intrigued with them but have never written for them, for whatever reason. So, I hope y'all enjoy! I'm definitely going to try to make it a goal to write more this year. Hopefully. I've been feeling rather inspired as of late, so maybe that's a good sign! Thanks so much for sticking with me all these years, you guys! It means the world!_

* * *

 **Distance**

* * *

She hates being too close to anyone - both physically and emotionally.

That was one of the first things Roman realized upon their initial encounter. In fact, her first words to him kind of echoed that sentiment.

 _"Hey, watch where you're going, Superman."_

He had been walking backstage and his arm had brushed, just briefly, against hers. A kind of electrical current had shot through him at the touch, and her hackles immediately rose. She turned on him, anger in the form of a dark-haired and lanky Brit, her eyes bright as new coal.

Roman hadn't been able to get those words out of his head, not for the longest time, not even now, as he watches her sleep.

Now, he knows that last part makes him sound like a creeper, but hear him out.

On a normal night, they fall asleep entangled in one another, limbs twined together so intricately that one could not tell where they ended and where they began. On a normal night, Roman would fall asleep with the scent of her shampoo in his nostrils, fingers trailing over her shoulder, a contentment deep in his bones that he had not known for the longest time - not until he met her.

And, as this normal night progresses, eventually the two would extricate themselves from one another's embrace, kick off sheets or bring sheets closer.

Eventually, Roman would try to bring his bedmate closer.

And, eventually, he would be rebuffed.

She always sleeps on the furthest side of the bed away from him, curled in on herself, arms crossed, legs pulled to her chest, the blankets encircling her in an almost comical way - it looks almost as if she were in a cocoon. Normally, he would drink in the sight of her - the dark hair cascading down her back in a messy fashion, contrasting beautifully with her pale skin. Not on nights like this, when she's cut herself off from him so finally that he might as well be looking at nothing at all.

Roman can't help but feel strangely lonely as he stares at her, not just for him but for her. It's a strange thing, sympathizing with the loneliness another must feel, but he feels it for her more acutely than he's felt anything in his life.

It's particularly cold on this night; any other person would assume she was just cold and hogging all the covers, but Roman knows better. Even on the hottest of nights, she'd wrap herself in covers, as if to hide herself from him.

He's tried to sort it out in his head, tried to piece together her reasons why; Roman has done everything but ask her outright - for some reason, he imagines that not going too well; however, the curiosity weighs heavily on his mind.

So, now, all he can do is watch and see - vaguely, considering her state of cocoon-ness - the rise and fall of her back, eyes graze over where he'd assume her head would be if it weren't covered. One of his eyes catches a peek of a toe, the nail painted black, the only sign that her burrito-form is inhabited by an actual person and not a mannequin.

Roman's hand aches to reach out to her, to pull down the covers and press a kiss to her shoulder. She's a mystery, through and through, one that he would love to unravel - figuratively and literally.

The bundle moves and emits a throaty groan that immediately sends blood shooting to the more sensitive parts of his body. Roman runs a hand over his face and when he looks back to her, he finds her staring at him curiously, her mouth parted in an unasked question.

"Hey," he says.

Paige smiles. "Hey."

The silence that stretches between them is long, uncomfortable, filled with unasked questions, unexpressed desires. Paige seems to realize this, pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and then sighs.

"You're always so far away when I wake up," Roman ventures. _And in general._

Paige sinks those white teeth into her lip even further.

Silence.

 _Silence._

However, instead of giving him an excuse, she just looks at him and says, "I'm sorry."

Roman quirks a brow, but says nothing, allowing her to continue.

"I know I'm kind of a pill, sometimes," she says, "I know I'm prickly and difficult and I don't... _cuddle,_ " she spits the word as if it is poision; Roman laughs, "and I'm working on it. I'm working on being... _more._ "

Roman's smiling; he doesn't think he's ever smiled so wide in his life. The words are short, succinct, and totally _her._

The smile doesn't leave his face. His eyes gaze at her as if she is the most remarkable creature on this earth - and, as far as he's concerned, she is.

"I love you," he says.

Paige scoffs, as if that's the most ridiculous thing he could have said, but she responds with those three little words regardless. She's got her guard back up, but Roman feels as if one tiny brick has been knocked out, letting him see inside.

* * *

Backstage the next night, Paige reaches for his hand and twines their fingers together, initiating what she previously shunned.

 _"I'm trying to be... **more**..."_

Smiling, Roman squeezes her fingers.

 _Progress._

* * *

 _ **End.**_


End file.
